


Billy's Beat(ing of his heart, monsters, faces, drums, and maybe a few walls)

by notsoinnocent13



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Flash Forward, Flashbacks, M/M, Musicians, Serenading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2019-10-05 09:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17321966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsoinnocent13/pseuds/notsoinnocent13
Summary: Billy Hargrove shows up to town and makes a difficult situation worse, particularly for one Steve Harrington. Through beatings and bashings, Steve and Billy find some common ground in the feelings that only coming close to death could make come out.Each chapter will be inspired by a different song and the entire story takes place over a few years.Season Two canon compliant.





	1. All to Myself/Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fight at the Byers and successfully distracting the demo-dogs, Steve gets patched up then returns to the scene of the crime to make sure an altercation between him and Billy didn't accidentally turn into a homicide case.
> 
> Inspired by All to Myself by Dan + Shay and Black by Dierks Bentley
> 
> Slightly NSFW with mentions of blood, fighting, and cigarettes

**NOVEMBER 5, 1984**

 

     “Steve, this can’t be the right place,” Dustin and Mike argue as the group walks up the expansive driveway, stopping just before the oversized double wooden doors. Steve sighs, raising his bloodied fist and lightly knocking on the door. Max scoffs, pushing past the group and pounding on the door.

     The door pops open, a girl appearing on the other side, her dark brown hair piled on top of her head held up by a giant hair clip. “Can I help you?” she questions, her dark eyes raking over the ragtag group in front of her, her eyes stopping on Steve.

     Steve shakes his head, pushing Dustin to move. “Hopper told us to come here, I must’ve heard the address wrong,” he mutters.

     “No, right place, I’m his goddaughter, Katherine,” she answers, stepping aside and holding the door open.

     “Uhm, okay,” Steve says, nodding his head. The party moves inside, Steve walking in behind them.

     Katherine shuts the door behind him, pointing over Steve’s shoulder to the kitchen. She lightly pushes Steve towards the kitchen table, knocking her head as a silent instruction to sit down. “What happened?” she inquires, items banging around as she digs through a cabinet.

     Steve shrugs as he sits down, dropping his backpack from his shoulder to the floor, “Fist fight.”

     “Got you pretty good,” she states, sitting down across from him. Katherine raises her eyebrow, waiting for the whole story.

     “Billy Hargrove,” Steve answers.

     “Yeah, Steve had him going, but then Billy got mad, madder than he had been at least,” Dustin adds, the curly haired boy hovering over Steve’s shoulder.

     Katherine chuckles, pouring some rubbing alcohol onto a cotton ball. “Not surprised,” she shrugs. Katherine leans forward, pressing the cotton ball to Steve’s cheek. Steve pulls back, wincing at the burn. “Hold still,” Katherine orders, her fingers hovering over Steve’s cheek.

     “It stings,” Steve whines, instinctively pulling away from the cotton ball poised between her manicured fingers.

     Katherine leans back, accessing Steve’s face. “Don’t be a little bitch, Steve, and hold still,” she demands, gripping his chin in her other hand, holding his face still, “unless you’re interested in getting an infection.” She carefully dabs around the wound, wiping off the dried blood, trying to get a better look at the wound. “You’re an idiot for going hand to hand with Billy,” she mumbles, her eyes flashing up to meet Steve’s, “guy’s a rage monster.” 

     Steve and Max scoff at the same time. Steve fidgets with his fingers, anxiously rubbing his hands together, wincing at the sting radiating from his knuckles. “Dealt with plenty of monsters tonight and I’d take Billy over any of the others,” Steve says, the images of the literal monsters running through the tunnels replaying behind his eyelids. “I’ve got to go check on him,” Steve mumbles, pushing himself out of his seat.

     “What?” The party exclaims.

     Steve turns to face the group, taking in their frightened expressions. “I don’t need a murder charge hanging over my head when I should be worrying about getting in college,” he explains, flexing his hands to check the lessening burn with each movement.

     “You didn’t,” Max murmurs, her gaze locked on the tile flooring.

     “As if I’d let any of you shits take the blame,” Steve mutters, grabbing his backpack off the ground.

     “Steve, I can do it, he won’t give me a problem,” Katherine offers, closing the first aid box.

     Steve shakes his head, his hands resting on the cool of the marble counter. “Not worth the risk,” he murmurs, surveying the group in front of him, the various states of dishevelment, knowing he’s the worst off. “I can take him,” he says, more to convince himself than them.

     “You couldn’t take me right now,” Lucas scoffs.

     “I’m just going to make sure he’s alive,” Steve reassures the group, walking towards the door.

     “Take this, use if you need us,” Mike says, shoving his walkie-talkie into Steve’s hands.

     Steve shifts the heavy plastic brick to his left hand, sliding it into his backpack. Steve spares the worried group one more glance before shutting the door behind him, the weight of Billy’s keys in his hand heavier than the door. 

     The pathway back to Billy’s car seems longer than before, the blue car taunting Steve in the distance, but before he knows it, the car door slams shut behind him and he’s speeding towards the Byers’ house. “You’re just going to check on him, make sure he’s alive, no need to get close,” Steve mutters to himself. “What am I supposed to say, sorry? You were going to kill Lucas,” he mumbles, practicing what he’d say to Billy on the off chance he’s okay and awake. The walkie-talkie crackles, drawing Steve’s attention.

     “Steve?” Max asks, her voice garbled by the static. “I know you’re driving so you can’t answer, but I need you to just listen,” she says, her breathing heavy on the other side of the call. “Don’t set Billy off, he’s been itching to let out steam all week and I don’t think you’ll make it out alive,” she confesses, her breath hitching, “we need you, Steve, but I also need my brother, please make sure he’s okay.” Static echoes throughout the otherwise silent car, interrupted by light muttering then Max again. “Oh, uhm, over and out,” she sighs.

     Steve pulls into the Byers’ driveway, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that even if his knuckles were fine, it still would’ve hurt. Billy’s sitting on the front porch steps, a bag of peas pressed to his head, his eyes straight ahead droning into Steve’s through the Camaro’s windshield.. Steve inhales deeply, shutting off the car engine. Staying behind the wheel, Steve watches Billy, waiting for him to make the first move. Billy raises his eyebrows, daring, inviting Steve out to play. Steve climbs out of the car, setting the keys on the seat through the open window. As Steve gets closer, he can tell that Billy’s hair is stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck, caked to his skin with dried blood and sweat.

     Billy stands, throwing the bag to the ground and marching towards Steve. Billy rams his hands into Steve’s chest, sending Steve flying to the dirt driveway for the second time tonight. “Are you ever going to learn, Harrington?” Billy spits, his tongue escaping his mouth the run across his bottom lip. “Plant your goddamn feet!” he screams, his body towering over Steve “What the fuck is in the fridge?” he demands, his voice wavering as his sentence ends.

     Steve pushes himself up onto his elbows, “Demo-dog,” he answers. Billy raises his eyebrows. Steve shakes his head, pushing himself off the ground completely. “Monster from an alternate dimension,” he answers, moving past Billy to sit on the porch, setting the bag of peas on his cheek.

     “Max?” Billy calls.

     Steve jerks his head up, watching Billy ring his hands. Billy moves toward the porch, dropping down next to Steve. Billy fishes in his pocket, withdrawing a cigarette. “She’s okay, a,” Steve stutters, “friend is watching her and the others.”

     Billy places the cigarette between his lips, holding his lighter to the end. “Sinclair?” he mumbles around the rolled paper.

     Steve scoffs, shooting off the porch. “Seriously, I get being an asshole is your whole thing, but he’s a good kid, probably the best out of the group, just because he’s black,” Steve rants, his arms raising above his head.

     Billy stands up, knocking his head to the sky. “I couldn’t care less that he’s darker than the night sky,” Billy says, his head and eyes dropping to meet Steve’s. Steve’s face softens, drawing something out of Billy. “It’s my dad,” he whispers. Steve’s mouth drops open, his lips forming a perfect o. Billy forces out a deep chuckle, bringing his cigarette to his lips again. “I have to hand it to you, you’re quick on your feet, almost had me in the beginning,” he blabbers, his eyes flickering to the cut on Steve’s face. “If you plan on getting into anymore fights, don’t let them get you on the ground,” Billy advises. 

     Steve laughs, a smirk coming to grace his lips. “I’m more of a lover than a fighter,” he murmurs.

     “I can imagine,” Billy says, “doubt a pretty boy like you has hand to get his hands dirty before.”

     Steve defensively crosses his arms, standing a little taller. “I’ve been in fights,” he defends.

     Billy drops his half finished cigarette to the ground, stopping out the bud with the toe of his boot. “What? With Byers? That shit doesn’t count anymore than fighting his little brother would,” Billy scoffs, “what the fuck was that anyway?”

     “Nancy,” Steve admits, his shoulders dropping, knowing that she and Jonathan were probably huddled together right now celebrating his brother’s recovery.

     Billy shakes his head, the curls not stuck to his neck moving freely. “No bitch is worth that,” he grunts.

     “She was to me,” Steve murmurs, his heart aching to feel the way he felt for Nancy again, but this time for someone who would love him just as much.

     Billy surveys Steve’s face, the hard line of Steve’s lips, the hopelessness in his eyes. “You had it bad, Harrington,” Billy murmurs, softer than he had intended.

     Steve chuckles lightly. “Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” he quotes, smiling to himself for remembering the line, but losing all happiness at the sight of Billy’s hard gaze. “It’s stupid,” he mutters, regretting the words ever leaving his lips in front of present company.

     “It’s Tennyson,” Billy corrects. Steve furrows his eyebrows, wondering how Billy knows who spoke it when Steve himself couldn’t even remember. “Think I couldn’t read?” Billy teases.

     Steve shakes his head. “In English, you never follow along,” Steve mutters.

     Billy laughs lightly to himself. “King Steve keeping his eye on his competition?”

     Steve sighs heavily, tossing the defrosted bag of peas to the ground in a huff. “Can you drop the King Steve shit? I don’t care about any of that shit, not anymore,” he mutters.

     “Not even the things that came with it? The popularity, the girls?” Billy questions, his eyebrows narrowing.

     Steve scoffs, leaning backwards until his back touches the sturdy wood of the front porch. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s more important shit going on than high school bullshit,” Steve sighs, running his hands through his hair.

     “Yeah, guess you’re right,” Billy agrees, holding out his cigarette to Steve. His eyes follow Steve’s motions, from taking the rolled paper from his hand to carefully placing it between his puckered lips. Billy forces himself to tear his gaze from Steve, settling on the clear night sky above them, completely visible through the large hole in the porch roof. “It’s just easier to focus on the bullshit than things that you have no control over,” Billy mutters, taking the cigarette back from Steve, holding it near his lips, his eyes focusing on the wet spot created by Steve’s lips. He huffs lightly to himself, closing his lips around the damp paper. Billy exhales, the smoke clouding around his face. He follows Steve’s suit and leans backwards, laying down next to Steve, both of their legs bent so that their feet rest on the second step. “Make sure you take care of your knuckles, they’re always the worst,” Billy mumbles, handing the cigarette over to Steve again, his eyes fixed on the bloody joints.

     Steve chuckles, inhaling deeply. He turns his head, exhaling the cloud of smoke to the right of him. “I hate the itching,” he mutters, passing the cigarette back to Billy. Billy nods his head ever so slightly, raising the cigarette to his lips and inhaling. He knows he should turn away, if not for anything, but to not blow the smoke right into Steve’s face, but Steve’s big brown eyes are locked on his, something hiding behind them begging Billy to stay exactly where he is. Billy holds his breath, only exhaling when the pressure in his lungs is begging him. The stream of smoke escapes Billy’s lips in one long burst, some settling beneath the porch between them, most of it hovering over Steve’s face, his eyes fluttering shut. Billy drops the cigarette and rolls himself onto his side, landing as close to Steve as possible without being on top of him, his right hand landing on the other side of Steve to balance himself. Steve doesn’t move, not with Billy so close, his breath on his face, his neck, and his hands so close to him, but somehow not close enough. “Whatcha thinking about, Pretty Boy?” Billy whispers, his voice wavering as he speaks.

     “How much I love that nickname,” Steve breathes, his eyes darting to Billy’s lips. Billy leans forward, not quickly enough to count as lunging, but quick enough to startle Steve. The entire movement startles Steve less than the feeling of Billy’s warm lips on Steve’s, the feeling of his heavy tongue forcing its way into Steve’s mouth at the first little gasp that erupts from his throat. Steve slams his eyes shut, willing them not to open, to not wake him from this dream, but he feels a shudder of a hot breath against his neck, hovering against his neck, followed by a light kiss just under his jaw then another near his ear, Billy’s lips trailing across his skin. “Steve?” Billy murmurs, his lips resting against the curve of Steve’s ear.

     “Yeah?” Steve shakily says, his eyes still cemented shut.

     “You okay?” Billy murmurs into his ear. Steve nods his head. “You haven’t moved, you kinda look like you’re glued to the floor,” Billy chuckles, his hand trying to pry Steve’s off the wood slat. Steve loosens his grip, allowing Billy to move his hand in his own. “Open your eyes,” Billy says, placing a gentle kiss to Steve’s lips. “Harrington?”

     Steve slowly opens his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin. “Call me something else,” he murmurs, slipping his hand out of Billy’s and bringing it to rest on the back of Billy’s neck, “anything else,” he adds, pulling Billy down towards him.

     Billy resists Steve’s pull, pushing himself up to hover over Steve, both of his hands on either side of Steve’s head. “Steve,” Billy whispers, his eyes searching Steve’s face, pausing on the bruise around Steve’s eye, the same size of Billy’s fist.

     “Just kiss me,” Steve pleads, pulling Billy harder. Their lips crash into each others, hands frantically moving, groping, searching each other. Each touch sends a moan from the bottom of Steve’s gut to his throat, only encouraging Billy more. Billy’s hand pushes against Steve’s shoulder, tugging on Steve’s jacket, only managing to push the soft material off a little bit, just enough for his hand to slip under the thin material of Steve’s shirt, the palm of Billy’s hand coming into contact with the hot skin of Steve’s shoulder. 

     Billy begrudgingly pulls away, Steve’s lips chasing after him, his mind, his body, his soul dizzy from Billy’s mix of rough kisses and gently teeth. “Steve, we,” Billy pants. Steve leans forward, attaching his lips to Billy’s neck, one hand behind him bracing him, the other tangled in Billy’s curls. “Steve,” Billy chuckles, leaning himself back more to escape Steve’s impatient lips. “We, we’re on a front porch,” Billy mutters, slipping his free hand into Steve’s ridiculous mane of a hairdo.

     Steve leans back, looking around. “No one else lives out here,” Steve murmurs.

     Billy holds Steve back. “The people who live here do,” Billy murmurs, cradling Steve’s tilted head in his hand.  “Come on, Pretty Boy, let’s go for a ride,” he says, knocking his head towards his Camaro. Steve slowly nods, blinking deeply a few times. Billy untangles himself from Steve, offering his hand down to him, pulling him up off the porch in a fluid move. Billy releases Steve from his grip, letting him trail around the hood and slide into the passenger side. Steve buckles himself in, bringing a smile to Billy’s face. Billy cranks the engine, peeling out of the driveway. Steve’s silence concerns him, Billy tilting his head to glance over at the boy next to him, silently drumming his fingers against his jeans. “Talk to me,” Billy says, turning down a dark road with no signage.

     Steve rolls his head to the side, his eyes switching between Billy and the road in front of them. “About what?”

     “Anything,” Billy chuckles, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

     Steve shifts in the seat, tilting his body to lean against the door. “The day you showed up, I had to force myself to not look,” he mumbles, fidgeting with his fingers, “those jeans you wore, they were so tight, couldn’t even imagine what it’d feel like to be that close to you,” he admits. Billy chuckles, tearing his eyes from the road to look over at Steve. He nods, urging Steve to continue. “And at the Halloween party,” Steve says, readjusting his position to stretch his legs out as far as they could, “you didn’t wear a shirt and you looked so good, but all I could think about was that you were going to catch a cold,” Steve chuckles, laughing at himself for how absurd he sounds, but the look in Billy’s eyes just draws more words out of Steve. “You’ve ruined basketball for me, just so you know,” Steve jokingly huffs.

     “Dreaming about me pushed up against you?” Billy teases, shutting the engine off.

     Steve looks around, seeing nothing, but trees in the black of the night. “Where are we?”

     Billy shrugs off his jacket, tossing it in the backseat.“Somewhere private, it’s just us here,” he says, following his jacket into the backseat. Steve turns around, peering at Billy over the headrest. “Coming, or what, Steve?” Billy teases. Steve clamors into the backseat, far less graceful than Billy’s maneuver, but it works nonetheless. He lands precariously on the backseat, his knees on either side of Billy’s denim clad hips. Steve leans down, his lips ghosting against Billy’s, his hand sneaking underneath Billy’s barely there shirt.


	2. Heaven In Hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of Stranger Things Season Two, Billy is left on the throne at Hawkins High and isn't afraid to let it further fuel his ego after his encounter with the Party.
> 
> Inspired by Heaven in Hiding by Halsey
> 
> Slightly NSFW with mentions of crude/foul language, drinking, smoking, slight blood, scars, alluding to sex and Neil's and others homophobic asshole tendencies

**NOVEMBER 16, 1984**

 

     Cutting off the engine of her bike, the music from within the house is evident in the air, as much so as the kids stumbling out of the house.

     A shrill screams cuts through the music. “You’re here!” Lily screams, her teased platinum blonde hair visible as she runs across the yard. Katherine tosses her helmet onto the handle, the silver reflector tape shining in the headlights of the car idling behind her.

     “Said I would, didn’t I?” She laughs, pulling the tall blonde into her arms. 

     “Yeah, but lately,” she murmurs into Katherine’s neck, Lily’s lip gloss sticking to Katherine’s mussed dark brown hair.

     She sighs, loosening her grip, “I know, been a major flake and buzzkill,” she whispers. Stepping back, she places her helmet into the under seat storage, bending down to lock the case with the key hanging from the chain around her neck. Standing back up, she rests against the bike, “I’m here, now,” she says, surveying the party unfolding a few feet in front of her.

     “Yes! The Partying Queen returns,” Lily exclaims, clapping her hands together.

     “You’re the only one who calls me that,” she laughs, looping her arm through Lily’s, letting her guide the pair towards the lively house.

     She shrugs, her oversized earrings jingling with each move. “That’s because I’m the only one here who knows how much fun you can be,” she declares, gripping Katherine’s arm tightly in her hand, her manicured nails slightly digging into her skin through the sleeve of her sweater. “Still will never understand why you wear these ugly things,” she mumbles, picking at the balls of compacted fabric scattered across the sweater.

     “Because it’s December and we live in Indiana, it’s fucking cold,” Katherine scoffs, “you’re going to freeze to death.”

     Lily smooths her extremely short skirt, tugging on the fabric “Maybe then Steve will have to revive me,” she jokes, suggestively raising her eyebrows. “Maybe at least talk to me,” she quietly adds as she pushes open the gate.

     “You’re still convinced he’s the one?” Katherine questions, having listened to her go on and on about the moment they shared more than a year ago at a party much like the one awaiting us. Sighing deeply, she wavers back and forth between letting her cousin continue or letting her know to finally drop the notion completely. Her face gets more and more excited as she goes on, breaking Katherine’s heart. “Lil, I heard he and some girl below us are on and off,” she murmurs, looking around at the bodies scattered around the backyard, a few familiar faces poking through the copious amounts of makeup and hairspray even as they lounge by the heated pool.

     Lily shrugs, slipping her arm out of mine to wave at someone across the yard. “No matter, she’s a junior and we’re both seniors, leaving for college in a few months,” she says.

     “You’re not going to college,” Katherine absentmindedly remind her, surveying the backyard just as a guy from her math class is tossed in the pool, the water from the splash hitting Carol, a shriek squeal erupting from her pursed lips.

     “Well, he doesn’t know that,” Lily scoffs, turning to face Katherine. “What’s up your ass? Seriously, I thought you’re here because you wanted to have fun,” she hisses.

     “That will require many, many, many drinks,” Katherine remarks.

     “I think that can be arranged,” she declares, tugging Katherine towards the house, “I happen to know where the host keeps the good stuff.” Stepping across the threshold, they’re met by loud cheering, someone’s feet in the air within a small circle. Scoffing, Katherine moves past the group, tugging Lily along with her, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Okay, work your magic,” Lily declares, taking a seat on the counter. Katherine tosses her jacket at Lily, watching her move her own and Katherine’s to rest underneath her as padding against the harsh marble counter. Katherine moves around the kitchen, careful not to bump into anyone. Selecting her choice of poisons, she pours a mixture of each into two cups, sloshing the cups around to mix the contents. Carefully, she crosses the kitchen, extending Lily’s cup out to her.

     Katherine hops up on the counter, letting the back of her pale pink sneakers hit the cabinets below them. She takes a large drink, the drink staining her lips red. “Fuck shitty parents, but thank god you learned how to mix drinks,” Lily laughs, taking another gulp.

     “Twelve years and counting,” Katherine mockingly cheer, knocking her cup into Lily’s, a bit of the dark red liquid splashing onto her skirt. “Shit, sorry,” Katherine mumbles, grabbing a towel from behind her. She dabs at the small stain, only seemingly pushing it further into the fabric.

     Lily pushes herself off the counter, staggering as her heels hit the ground. “It’s fine, be back in a mo,” she says, waving her hand. Over the edge of her cup, Katherine watches her disappear into the crowd. Downing the rest of her drink, she lets her head fall backwards against the cabinet, letting the alcohol settle in her stomach as the music progressively gets heavier and heavier, her heart matching the beat.

     Strong hands come to rest against her waist. Katherine cracks her left eye open, a familiar mop of curls in front of her. “Well, aren’t you a sweet thing?” Billy Hargrove practically purrs, his warm breath fanning across her neck. She slides off the counter, landing to stand between his legs, his arms blocking her in against him.

     Shaking her head, she looks up at him and push up on her toes, his baby blues focused on her. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Katherine whispers, wrapping her hands around his neck, playing with the hair at the base of his neck, goosebumps rising across the expanse of it. He smirks, staring down at her. “That’s your type, I’m guessing,” she continues, weaving her fingers through his hair, wrapping a perfect curl around her right pointer finger. “Want me begging for you,” she continues, placing her lips right next to his ear. “Laying there, just for the taking,” she murmurs, tightening her grip on his hair, a low groan emitting from deep within his chest. Quickly, she removes her right hand, using her left, still entangled in his hair, yanking it to the side. “You have no idea who I am, Hargrove,” she snarls, stepping under his arm.

     His arm shoots out, grabbing her forearm and yanking her backwards. “Bitch,” he growls, rubbing the side of his head. “You’re Katherine, never Kathy, you show up to school last minute and rush to the bus the second the bell rings,” he grunts, pushing her back towards the counter. “Probably going home to pray like the good little girl you are,” he scoffs.

     “Is that your guess about these?” she questions, moving her legs so that the holes in her jeans move just enough to show off her bruised knees. Billy quirks his eyebrow, a wicked smile gracing his face. She shakes her head, pulling her arm out of his grip, pressing her pointer finger into his chest. 

     “God, I hope not,” he mutters, his eyes flickering between her face and finger.

     Scoffing, Katherine again raises up on her toes and places her lips right next to Billy’s ear. “I bet my bike can beat your precious little Camaro,” she states, silently moving away from Billy and sidestepping around the few that had gathered to see what was going on with their king. “You’re not the only one paying attention, but unlike you,” she calls out, stepping outside, the cool winter air sobering her up instantly. “I’m correct,” Katherine mutters to herself, wrapping her arms around her torso.

     A heavy jacket lands on her shoulders, leather by the scent of it. “What do I get when I win?” Billy questions, coming to stand at her side, his body seemingly radiating heat.

     His cockiness makes Katherine roll her eyes, but also sends a shiver down her spine. “If,” she corrects, shrugging his jacket off her shoulders. Gripping the worn leather in her hands, Katherine holds it out to him. “I’ll blow,” she whispers, letting her eyes scan him from head to toe as he does the same, “your mind,” she chuckles, dropping his jacket at his feet.

     “You’re on,” he grumbles, grabbing his jacket off the concrete and tossing it at one of his buddies. He leads the way through the house, pausing at the front door.

     “You never said what you want if you win,” he murmurs, leaning closer than necessary, but Katherine’s starting to get the impression that’s just how he close he always gets.

     “Since you’re so sure I won’t, it shouldn’t be a concern,” she says, a coy smile placed on her lips.

     “Katherine, what the hell is going on?” Lily exclaims, tugging on her arm.

     She looks over her shoulder to see Billy’s buddies hyping him up. “I’m going to race Billy here,” she states, watching the crowd of people outside grow larger and larger. “I’ll be fine,” she promises, leaning over and wrapping her arms around Lily. “I know I said that last time, but I won’t let it get too far this time,” Katherine whispers, quickly kissing the side of Lily’s head then stepping back, just as Lily shoves Katherine’s leather jacket into her hands. 

     Katherine slips on her jacket, zipping it up all the way to her neck, the fabric of her sweater poking out at the sleeves and under her neck. “Your girlfriend worried about you?” Billy jeers, earning a few laughs.

     “Cousin,” Katherine corrects, crouching to unlock the compartment and retrieving her helmet.

     Billy shrugs, offering his hand to help her back off. She scoffs, standing up and securing her helmet under her chin. “Well, after we’re done, I can’t wait to come back here and see you live up to your promise,” Billy whispers, his hand snaking around her waist, lightly pinching.

     “Here?” Katherine questions, looking over his shoulder at the house.

     Billy smirks, “Nice place, isn’t it? My parents are out of town for the weekend,” he says.

     “Yeah, real nice place,” she murmurs, turning away before Billy can see the whites of her eyes as she rolls them. She slides over the seat of her bike, kicking the brake up. Cranking the key, the engine roaring to life as she holds the clutch down. “Did you even bother asking anyone about me or did you just think you could figure me out all on your own?” Katherine asks, Billy’s gaze focused on her bike instead of her for once.

     His eyes flick back up to Katherine. “No one knows anything, not where you live, not what you do with your free time, not even a middle name,” he answers, fishing in his pocket for his keys.

     Katherine smiles to herself, shaking her head lightly. “Guess that’s the beauty of moving to a town where everyone’s too concerned with their own shitty lives to worry about someone else's,” she says, carefully backing out of the driveway and into the street. “Otherwise by now someone would’ve done something about your dad,” she states, looking up just in time to meet Billy’s flaming eyes. Billy stands up taller, his hand shooting out to grip her wrist. “Told you I pay attention,” she shrugs, shaking his hand off, continuing backwards. She stops just in front of Billy’s car, letting both her feet touch the ground. “Hopper’s my Godfather, if you ever want to do something about it,” she offers.

     Billy’s face heats up, all his exposed skin getting a visible red tint to it. “The chief of police is your Godfather and you’re drag racing?” he scoffs.

     She shrugs her shoulders, looking around, “what he doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.”

     “I don’t think-” Billy mutters, following her motion and looking around.

     “Are you scared?” Katherine mocks, her heart speeding up at the thought of Billy backing out.

     Billy’s face hardens, his gaze dropping to her. “Never,” he states, although his hands hidden in his jacket pockets says otherwise.

     “Good,” she chimes, sliding her goggles on. “End of the street,” she declares, knowing the road like the back of her hand.

     “End of the street,” Billy agrees, extending his hand out to her. She shakes it, jolting forward as Billy tugs on her hand. “Don’t you dare say anything to anyone about what you know,” he grunts, releasing his grip on her hand.

     “If I was going to, I would’ve done it already,” Katherine mutters, pulling her feet up and squeezing the gas. She circles around, giving Billy enough time to get ready, coming to stop right outside his door. She peers over, noting how white Billy’s knuckles are from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. Katherine nods to Tommy and Carol, her hand shooting up with her scarf in her hand. She eyes both of them, letting the scarf fall to the ground. Both their engines roar as they step on the gas. Billy’s Camaro races forward, paralleling Katherine’s bike. She squeezes harder, urging her bike to work harder, go faster. She crawls ahead, taking the turn sharply, the smell of burning rubber filling her nose. With each curve, she and Billy stay neck and neck. Knowing what’s coming ahead, she presses harder, the tail end of her bike surpassing the front of Billy’s car, scraping by as the road narrows. Billy’s engine roars, creeping closer and closer until Katherine can feel the heat radiating from it. Sparing a glance behind her, Billy’s eyes are boring into hers. Shaking her head, she turns back around, spotting a board of orange at the next bend. Options race through her mind, realizing there’s really only one. She pushes her bike harder, the engine starts to sputter. She pumps the breaks, slamming to a stop a few feet in front of Billy’s racing car. He slams on the breaks, his car spinning out. Scrambling off her bike, she jumps out of the way of his car, rolling to the side just as the front of his car hits her bike and sends it lurching forward into the roadblock. 

     Billy scrambles out of his car, ready to scream at Katherine, but his stance loses it’s defensiveness. “Holy shit,” he mutters, looking over the sign. Katherine pushes herself off the ground, joining him at the sign. She leans over, her mouth dropping open. The bridge has given away, at least twenty feet of open space before the water. 

     “You win,” she mutters, turning back around and resting on the hood of the Camaro. Billy stalks towards her, his eyebrows furrowed. “I was the one that made us stop, so you win,” she explains, crossing her arms.

     Billy stands in front of her, his arms crossed across his chest. “You were going to win, you were in front of me,” he argues.

     Katherine rolls her eyes, this time visible to Billy, knowing that it’s killing Billy to even suggest he would’ve lost, just as much as it’s killing her to admit defeat. She rolls her tongue between her teeth, mulling over an idea. “How about a tie?” she offers, letting the word settle in her mouth.

     “A tie?” he repeats, sitting down next to her.

     Katherine shrugs, playing with the loose threads at the bottom of her sweater. “We both win,” she clarifies. Billy nods slowly, pushing himself off the hood. Billy moves around the car, opening the driver’s door.

     She stands up, hovering over her damaged bike. “What’s your prize?” he calls to her..

     “Tell you later,” she answers, standing her bike up. “I’ll meet you back there,” she says, slowly rolling her bike back towards where they came from. 

     “You don’t want a ride?” Billy asks, his hand resting on the frame of his door.

     She shakes her head, “Can’t abandon Jolene here, can I?”

     “Jolene?” he questions, climbing into his car and starting it. He quickly turns around to be facing the same direction as her..

     He rolls down the window, resting his forearm on it. “You’re telling me this beauty doesn’t have a name,” Katherine teases, kicking the tire.

     “It’s just a car,” Billy mutters, but his grip on the wheel tightens.

     Katherine stops walking, holding on tightly to the handles of her bike. Billy slows the car down until it stops. “So if I wanted it as my prize, you’d have no problem with that?” she asks. He shrugs, but bites his bottom lip and shakes his head. “I thought so,” she smirks, throwing all of her weight forward to push her bike forward. “Not like your parents couldn’t buy you another one, I mean, your house is huge,” she says, hiding her smile from Billy. 

     “What about your parents?” Billy asks, carefully pressing on the gas pedal just enough to keep the same pace as her.

     She scoffs, shaking her head. “Haven’t talked to them in years,” she mutters, trying to push the memories from her mind. Katherine looks over to see Billy staring, his face riddled with intrigue. “I live with my uncle and cousin,” she explains.

     “The blonde,” Billy states.

     “Lily,” she corrects. “Don’t even think about it, she’s hung up on Steve,” Katherine says before Billy can make a snide comment.

     “On Harrington?” he dryly chuckles. “Wouldn’t mess with that if someone paid me,” he mutters. She raises her eyebrow. “The whole thing with him, Byers, and that chick,” he says.

     “Try telling her that,” she mutters. Billy chuckles lowly, tapping out a quick beat on the steering wheel. 

     The noise from the party gets louder as we draw closer, the line of cars outside the house now visible. “Kat!” Lily shouts, running towards the pair, stumbling a bit when her heel catches on the grass.

     She crashes into Katherine, her arms wrapping around her leather clad torso. “I’m fine,” Katherine whispers into her hair, her left hand clutching Lily’s shirt tightly. 

     “What the hell happened?” she exclaims, pointing to the damage on her bike.

     “Road damage,” Billy answers, his eyes shifting between the two of them. Cheering erupts from the crowd, a group of guys rushing towards Billy. He slowly propels the car forward, parking in the now empty driveway.

     Lily releases Katherine from her grip, squatting down to properly assess the damage to her bike. “This is nothing, be able to fix it after a couple shifts,” Lily shrugs, wrapping her arms around Katherine’s shoulders. “All that matters is that you’re okay,” she murmurs, her brown eyes searching Katherine’s green ones. “And that you won?”

     “Tie,” she answers, pushing her helmet into Lily’s hands. Katherine crosses the lawn, hesitating at the wide open front door. Turning around, she whistles loudly, drawing everybody’s attention. “When you boys are done, you can meet me in the basement,” she calls, walking away to catcalls from Billy’s buddies.

Billy’s hands land on her waist, following behind her. “Done appeasing your fans already?” Katherine teases, turning down the hallway and opening the first door.

     Billy steps around Katherine, holding open the door for her. “They’re all idiots,” Billy mutters as she passes him going down the stairs.

     “They’re your friends,” she chimes, tugging on the light hanging from the ceiling in front of her.

     Billy shrugs as he glances around the space. “Like you said, they’re my fans,” he says. Not much occupies the room besides boxes and an old beat up couch. The concrete floor is harsh under his shoes as he steps off the stairs.

     “Sit,” Katherine commands. Billy slinks over to the couch, dropping ungracefully onto the old leather barely holding the piece of furniture together, his arm shooting out to catch himself. Katherine chuckles to herself, moving around Billy’s legs to straddle his thighs. His hands fall to rest on her body, gripping her hips tightly. Clicking her tongue, she pushes his hands off and holds them above his head with one hand, her other snaking underneath her sweater to undo her belt. Billy raises his eyebrows, silently urging, begging, her to move. “Scared?” she asks, pulling her belt off her waist.

     Despite the fear in his eyes, Billy shakes his head. “Never,” he mutters, his tongue darting out between his lips. 

     “Good,” she whispers, leaning closer to secure the belt around his wrists. Katherine leans back, flipping her hair over her shoulders so that it fans out against her back.

     “This isn’t what I usually do,” Billy murmurs as he lightly tugs at the restraint, testing his limited range of movement. “I’ve never met a girl like you,” he murmurs, his hands shaking. 

     Katherine laughs lightly, letting her hands fall to rest on Billy’s shoulders, the muscles tense under his shirt. “Sure you have, they just didn’t let you in on it,” Katherine whispers, her lips ghosting against his neck. “You’re eighteen, right?” she asks. Billy narrows his eyes, a question about a slip from him lips. Katherine raises her hand, placing her finger against his lips, silencing him. “I’m nineteen, don’t want to get in trouble for corrupting a minor,” she chuckles, “the last thing I need to explain to Hopper is that I was caught half naked in a storm cellar with Billy Hargrove,” Katherine says, watching Billy’s eyes go wide. “Just sit back, relax,” she declares, removing herself from Billy’s lap. She steps back, unzipping her jacket and dropping it to the ground. Billy drops his arm, his hands landing in his lap. “And talk to me,” she murmurs, turning around and bending over carefully and undoing her sneakers, kicking them off. Billy quirks an eyebrow. “That’s my prize,” Katherine says, shrugging her shoulders as she looks over her right one to Billy.

     Billy chuckles, shaking his head. “Me talking to you? I can talk all night long, sweetheart, if that’s what gets you going,” he whispers, his voice dropping an octave or two.

     Katherine turns back to face Billy. “No, not like that,” she sighs, delicately pulling on the hem of her sweater, repeatedly raising and lowering it. “I want to talk to Billy, not King of the Kegs or the reigning royalty of Hawkins High,” she murmurs, stalking towards Billy. “You don’t have to pretend for me, Billy,” she whispers, dragging her finger along his jawline. Billy tenses under her touch. “All the girls brag about how good you were, how precise,” Katherine says, placing her knees on either side of Billy’s thighs again, hovering above him. She peels off her sweater, tossing it behind her. Billy’s eyes go wide at the sight of her bare arms, scars and tattoos scattered across the expanse of her skin, his eyes focusing on a name written in delicate cursive within an anatomical heart. Continuing to drag her finger, she pauses under Billy’s chin, tapping it to draw his attention up. “Sex, real sex, isn’t precise, it isn’t a show you’re putting on for yourself or someone else, it’s shaking hands because you’re so nervous and so excited, it’s their heartbeat echoing in your chest as you move as one,” Katherine muses, her eyes focused on Billy’s face. His eyes drop to avoid her gaze. “It’s messy, and clumsy, and stupid, and fun, and heartbreakingly intense,” she whispers. “Do you know what that’s like?” 

     “Yes,” he stutters, his eyes looking anywhere but hers.

     “When’s the last time you felt it?” Katherine prys, tracing her finger along his exposed collarbones.

     “Last month,” he murmurs, his eyes following the path her finger creates, dipping under his shirt and around his back muscles. “The idiot came back to check on me, after I,” he mutters under his breath, so quietly that had Katherine been any farther away she wouldn’t have been able to hear it, his words dropping off.

     She nods carefully, letting her body weight drop to rest on Billy’s legs. “Steve’s got a big heart,” she murmurs, knowing that the pretense Steve put up was fading quickly to the public.

     Billy chuckles deeply, his hands resting on Katherine’s right thigh. “That’s not the only thing about him that’s big,” he smirks.

     “I’m aware,” Katherine teases, meeting Billy’s raised eyebrow with her own. “I patched him up after everything,” she murmurs, her hands floating up to weave their way into Billy’s hair for the second time tonight, this time with no malicious intent. “You’re not the only one privy to this town’s dark secrets,” Katherine continues, scratching lightly at Billy’s scalp, a moan desperately trying to escape from him lips. Billy stares up at Katherine expectantly and more defenseless than she had ever seen him, the layers of lies and pretenses he’s built up laying at his feet. Katherine leans forward placing a gentle kiss on Billy’s forehead, pausing as she pulls away. “At the end of last year, I wiped out racing, that’s what Lily was so worried about, that’s why I stopped,” she murmurs, “my parents said that they’d rather me be dead than gay.” 

     A grunt escapes Billy’s lips. “Know the feeling,” Billy states as he grips her thigh, squeezing tightly.

     Katherine leans back, her hand resting on Billy’s rib cage, just below the bandage securely taped to it. “Trying to beat it out of you?” she murmurs, letting her fingers stroke the hot skin beneath her touch.

     “Among other reasons,” he mutters, his jaw tensing. 

     Katherine reaches behind her, retrieving a business card from her back pocket and sliding it between Billy’s fingers. “If you ever need a place to hang, just go to this address and give them my name, Don will let you in,” she says, sliding herself out of Billy’s lap and into the empty space next to him.

     Billy’s eyes flick from the card to Katherine then back to the card. “You’re a stripper?” he questions, flipping the card over to check for a punchline on the back.

     Katherine chuckles, “I told you that I would blow your mind,” she says as she reaches over, undoing the buckle and pulling the belt off of Billy’s wrists. “Time to go, Billy,” Katherine states, pushing herself off the couch. Billy’s eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t your house, it’s my Uncle’s,” Katherine says, grabbing her sweater off the ground and sliding it over her head. Billy stands, holding her jacket out to her. Katherine throws it over her arm, pushing at Billy’s back to get him to go upstairs. He slowly ascends the stairs, pausing at the top to look around the hallway. “Don’t go around trying to guess which bedroom is mine, it’s about as obvious as how many drinks I had tonight,” Katherine teases, pushing past Billy.

     “Third door on the left upstairs, it’s the only one that’s locked,” Billy calls, swinging the basement door closed behind him.

 


	3. TBD

**NOVEMBER 19, 1984**

 


	4. TBD

**December 15th, 1984**


	5. I Don't Want To Lose Your Love Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of fear of Neil turning on Max, Billy stays in Hawkins, getting a job at the local repair shop, spending his nights playing at a local bar after learning that hitting a drum causes a lot less problems than hitting faces or walls. A random night four years after graduating high school brings back memories and a way out.
> 
> Inspiration: Your Love by The Outfield and a post I saw on Tumblr which I am working on locating again where Billy learns to take his frustrations on drums
> 
> Warnings: Language, Drinking, Smoking, Slight Blood, alluding to sex and Neil's asshole tendencies

**MARCH 1989**

     Steve would recognize that mess of dirty blonde curls anywhere, bouncing along to the heavy beat of the song with every hit of his drum sticks, his knuckles white from his grip on them. Billy continues to lose himself in the song, a heavy rock version of _Wanted Dead or Alive_ , Billy playing the drums heavily, accompanied by two guitarists and a lead singer, sweat dripping down all of their foreheads and soaking through their various version of a band uniform, tight black jeans and tees with the bands logo on it, Billy’s fraying on the edges from cutting off the sleeves and deepening the neckline. Billy’s eyes scan the room, a habit learned over time, from watching for the weak kids at school or watching for his dad’s telltale signs of an impending explosion, but his gaze pauses when he sees a head of hair that he could never forget, no matter how hard he tried. He lets his eyes fall, meeting Steve’s warm honey brown eyes, and missing a beat. Billy shakes his head, an attempt to clear his head, resuming his drumming. Steve raises his left eyebrow, a small smirk on his lips, a cigarette between them, his body stiff amongst the swaying bodies of the crowd, his focus on Billy, rather than the song. Billy keeps on rhythm, hitting the stretched fabric harder with each passing beat, the wood of the sticks snapping on the last beat as Billy watches Steve weave through the crowd and out the front door. The crowd roars, clapping their hands and stomping their feet, Billy making his exit through the backstage, snatching his jacket from an abandoned music stand, emerging in the alley, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the end of his shirt, exposing his stomach to the harsh cold wind of Indiana at night.

     “Would you believe me if I said my car broke down outside?” Steve chuckles, drawing Billy’s attention downward. Steve takes the cigarette from between his lips, dangling it from his fingers at his side, turning his head to face Billy.

     “Not a chance in hell, Harrington,” Billy deadpans, taking the cigarette from Steve’s fingers and dropping it to the concrete, grinding it into the ground with the toe of his shoe. “Those will kill you,” Billy asserts, crossing his arms.

     “Nastier things have tried,” Steve chuckles, grinning at his own joke.

     “I’m sure, you’re fucking annoying, King Steve,” Billy grunts, taking a cigarette from the carton in his own pocket.

     “I was stripped of that title years ago,” Steve reminds him, lighting the cigarette dangling from Billy’s lips with his baby blue lighter, the color perfectly matching his shirt. “I prefer my new one anyway,” he whispers, sticking the lighter back in his jacket pocket.

     Billy chuckles, exhaling a stream of smoke, the cloud dispersing into the air all around them. “Is that so, Princess?” he asks, his gravelly voice and the use of Billy's nickname for Steve sending a shiver down Steve's spine.

     “Utterly so,” Steve whispers, wrapping his hand around Billy’s wrist, Billy pulling away, a knee jerk reaction. Steve retracts his hand, letting his fall back at his side, fidgeting with the fabric, then sticking both hands in his pockets.

     “What are you doing here?” Billy whispers, scared of eavesdroppers, or even the Earth below them with wind that might carry all the way to Neil's ears.

     “Feeling brave,” Steve responds, matching Billy’s softness, the two instinctively leaning toward each other, sharing the same air, the tension in the air growing with each second of silence passing, Steve continues, “the wrath of small minded people is nothing compared to demodogs.”

     “So it would seem,” Billy chuckles, backing up, lifting his cigarette back to his lips, muttering in between breaths, “I had to hear all about your date from Mrs. Wheeler,” he finishes, turning his eyes to Steve.

     “Did you and Karen have a nice time?” Steve asks, swiping the cigarette from Billy’s lips and placing it to his own, Billy watching him inhale and exhale, the pucker of his lips keeping him entranced. Steve hands it back to Billy, snapping Billy’s attention back to the question hanging in the air.

     Billy drops his cigarette, the toe of his boot stomping out the dying ember. “I was fixing her car,” he answers, his eyes set on Steve.

     “I’m sure,” Steve mumbles, crossing and uncrossing his arms, finally pushing himself off the wall and standing a foot in front of Billy, Steve says, “I figured it was time.”

     Billy pushes himself off the wall, standing a little bit taller, “Time for what?” He asks, raising his chin. Had anyone walked by, they would’ve assumed the two had decided to revive their high school rivalry.

     “Me to be me, come out,” Steve answers, waving his hand as if offering an explanation.

     Billy chuckles, the sound coming from the depths of his chest, the movement catching Steve’s attention, his eyes following the rise and fall of Billy chest through his open shirt, “Congrats, Princess, you’re now officially a fairy,” Billy says, taking the moment of Steve being distracted to watch Steve watching him.

     “That night, you and I were both feeling pretty brave,” Steve whispers, taking a step closer to Billy.

     “That was years ago, and there were extenuating circumstances, to say the least,” Billy reminds Steve, wanting to take a step back, but refusing to be the one to back down.

     “Was it? I remember it like it was yesterday,” Steve ponders, the images of demodogs racing towards Steve and the party, Steve sure that their death was certain, until a racing drowned out his heart, a familiar blue car speeding into view, a head full of curls propelling from the driver’s seat, a machete in one hand and a bottle of liquor with a rag in it in the other, Billy’s voice yelling to get in the car. Understandably all the kids had looked at each other in confusion, Billy’s voice cutting through the blaring music escaping his car, yelling every profanity he knew, the party scrambling to the car, slamming all the doors shut behind them, but not before Billy lights the soaked rag, winks at Steve, then flings it directly onto one of the demodogs emerging from the woods, it’s shrieks filling the air.

     “Steve?” Billy questions, snapping his fingers in front of Steve’s face.

     “What?” Steve asks, a dorky smile on his face.

     “I asked if you been fantasizing about me, about our special times? My face filling your dreams, pretty boy?”

     “Among other body parts,” Steve whispers, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his own body begging for him to take the final step between the two, or begging Billy to close the gap, whatever it took to be closer.

     “Steve…” Billy murmurs, his hand reaching out, settling on Steve’s arm, innocent enough to please Neil’s voice in his head, but enough to quiet his pounding heart.

     “Billy, I’m leaving Hawkins, I’m going to California,” Steve says, handing Billy a postcard of Los Angeles. Billy turns it over in his hand, glancing at the smudged writing, signed with a heart and invitation to come stay for a while. “Come with me, my uncle offered me a place above his garage,” he says, his eyes pleading, “you never wanted to come to this town in the first place.”

     “I can’t,” Billy shrugs, handing the postcard back to Steve, “Max…” he whispers, the only reason he had stayed in Hawkins in the first place, to ensure that Max never had to endure the wrath of Billy’s father.

     “Is coming with us,” Steve smiles, pushing the postcard back into Billy’s hand, “she got her acceptance letter to USC today, full ride, she’s free,” Steve says, his smile growing bigger, “so are you.” Billy looks down at the flyer, the thought of being rid of Neil forever lifting a weight off his shoulder.

     “She got in? The little shit told you before me?” Billy asks, his face unmoved, Billy’s prized talent of hiding his feelings coming out to play, trying his best to hide how proud of Max he is.

     “She tried calling you, Neil forgot to pick her up again,” Steve says, tapping his fingers at his side, waiting for Billy’s reaction.

     “That piece of shi-” Billy shouts, spinning around to punch the wall, Steve hand wrapping around his wrist to stop him. Billy stares at the wrist, the anger from that reached a high in high school begging him to knock Steve flat on his ass. Billy spins around, his fist colliding with Steve’s cheek, Steve staggering backwards.

     “Can’t say I’ve missed being punched,” Steve coughs, wiping his mouth. Billy steps towards him, his eyes furrowed in concern.

     “Billy, we’re back on!” A bodyless voice calls from the open doorway, interrupting the two. Billy looks at the door then back at Steve, stepping away and through the dark hole in the wall.

     “Sing me something, won’t you?” Steve asks, a little blood spilling from the corner of his mouth, but a smile on his face despite it.

     “You’re staying?” Billy asks, one hand on the doorway frame, most of his body hidden by darkness.

     “You haven’t given me an answer,” Steve smiles, wiping his mouth again, walking towards the front of the bar.

     Billy watches him, the perfect prince who watched where he stepped from high school no more, walk away, Steve looking over his shoulder, giving Billy a wink before he disappears around the side of the building. Billy winds through the backstage, grabbing the shoulder of the lead singer, whispering into his ear before sitting down at his drum kit, a new stick set resting on the bass drum. He searches the crowd, finding Steve in the back at the bar, swirling his finger in a drink, before removing it and sucking on it, a smug smile on his face as he withdraws his own finger. Billy lowers his gaze, shaking his head, hitting the first beat to get the band started, the lead guitarist playing a riff that everyone in the room recognizes, a few shrill screams showing the excitement. The lead singer taps his foot, slowly reaching the microphone, the first lyrics of the song echoing through the bar, the girls in the crowd singing along, a bra flying from the middle of the crowd to land on Billy’s cymbal, a grin spreading across his face. Steve rolls his eyes, tossing back his drink, and slides off his bar stool, grabbing his jacket, looking back at Billy, a smirk on his lips. He weaves his way through the crowd, stopping in the middle, closer to the front than he had been during the last set, his eyes following Billy’s movements. The heavy beat drives the crowd crazy, Steve getting swept up in it, moving with the crowd, throwing his hands in the air. If Billy had been standing, his knees would’ve buckled at the sight. The song was coming to an end, the lyrics repeating, getting softer and softer, until Billy picks up the pace, egging on the other members.

     “I don't want to lose your love tonight,” Billy screams with the rest of the band, keeping his eyes on Steve.

     “IS THAT A YES?” Steve yells, ignoring the confused murmurs around him. Billy laughs, his grin feeling genuine for the first time in a long time, slamming on his drums one more time, nodding his head in the process.


End file.
